9 Minutes, 24 Seconds
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: 9 minutes, 24 seconds—the time between Thanos disappearing off Titan with the Time Stone and Mantis disappearing in a cloud of dust. Peter Quill vents his grief about Gamora's death; Nebula commiserates with his grief; Peter Parker says, "I'm sorry," to a Tony Stark who wants to not face this terrible future; and Stephen Strange has to keep this terrible future all to himself.


**_Soli Deo gloria_**

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Avengers.**

**Can we just talk about how great Infinity War is? Like, as a movie—it has an amazing plot, a cast of dynamic, well-fleshed-out characters, and a villain who has like, a unique motivation besides the usual 'I wanna rule the world'. I just—Infinity War is just one of my favorites in the MCU. Its ending is terrible, yet so well done.**

The dying sun hung in the air over Titan, shifting slowly toward the west. It would set just like the sun hanging over Earth would. It would set over a planet decimated and war-torn, broken and anguished. Just like Earth.

Tony ignored the pain in his gut and looked anxiously around the shipwrecks littering this planet. He just needed to focus on _something_. He couldn't even look Stephen Strange in the eye—he was too wrecked to think about thanking the guy for saving his life. What did his life matter? The dude just gave the freaking Time Stone to the sociopath who wanted to kill half of the world!

He ignored the horror mirroring his face when he looked up at Peter Quill. Tony didn't want to admit it, but maybe the guy had enough arrogance propping up his ego to rival his own. Peter thought he could take on the Titan. _Ha. _Tony thought the Avengers could take on the Titan. They were the freaking Avengers, after all. _HA! _His fault, his fault, his fault, for even _thinking _about taking on this guy with just the kid and this _stupid _wizard and this team of moronic aliens—

"We lost," Peter repeated himself, mortified.

"Yeah, well," Tony said, looking up at him half-defeated, half-angry, "what did you expect? Did you think he would back down when you went after him, when we _had _him?"

Peter's face contorted from horror to pissed-off anger. "He _killed _Gamora," he seethed.

Tony ignored the warning growing in the back of his mind. He said, "I still don't know who that is," anyway.

Peter Quill's eyes glowed _red _as he flipped on his helmet and cocked his space glock. He spun that thing on Tony and was two seconds from making a grieving, grievous decision, when Peter Parker scurried up and kicked the gun out of his hand. Peter Quill rounded on him, ready to take this kid down instead—Peter Parker backed up, hands up—when Stephen called out, "Stop!"

All three turned to Stephen. He hadn't moved from his crumpled position. Not a single muscle had twitched since he willingly handed over the Time Stone. He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. His voice was smooth, if flat. Even. "I didn't just save his life for you to waste it so quickly," to Peter Quill.

Maybe it was the sincerity in Stephen's face—but it was probably the pleading in his eyes. The eyes of a man who saw a future he must see come to pass, but also the eyes of a man burdened with terrible knowledge he couldn't give away. But still—Peter Quill flipped back his helmet.

"I'm going to go find Mantis and Drax," he announced. "See if we can get a ship up and running. Go back to Earth. See if we can salvage this shit-show."

Peter Quill just turned his back when Stephen said, "We can't salvage this. Not now."

Peter Quill said over his shoulder, "There _has _to be a way."

"We lost, Peter," Stephen said calmly. He was a surgeon. He'd never lost a patient, but he'd been present with Christine when she had to deliver bad news to patients, deaths to their families. He'd taken the seminars on how to break bad news gently to those overrun by irrational emotion. "This is the way it is."

"Don't say that," Tony said suddenly. "Don't say that we can't do anything about it." He squeezed his eyes shut.

Stephen pressed his lips tightly together. He'd said too much already.

"Well, _you _guys can take this lying down," Peter Quill said, looking angrily from Peter Parker to Tony to Strange, "but I sure as hell won't." He took two steps before he swiveled back around and said, pointing at Tony, "Gamora was the fiercest woman in the galaxy. She hid behind this warrior persona, but not only did she have the most bad-ass sword-fighting skills of anyone I know, she also had the biggest heart." His eyes filled with fast tears as his face grew red. "That son of a bitch just took her, and I _let _him. And he _killed _her! He freaking killed her! I—" He turned and swore and kicked the ground and shot off in the distance and screamed like he wanted to pull his lungs out.

Tony squeezed his eyes tighter.

"You loved her."

Peter Quill let those words echo in the tiny silence left after his scream died. He looked up, his face an unashamed mess, to Nebula. Her shiny metallic face showed black eyes that wanted to cry but lost the ability to years ago. Her chin quivered.

Peter had never gotten into the nitty-gritty of the kind of messed-up history shared between Gamora and her sister from Gamora, but he knew they weren't BFFs growing up. They only just reconciled several months ago. To see her sister, this robotic murderous minion, betray such emotion at the thought of her dead sister—it was just kind of startling.

"Yeah, I did. I-I _do_. I—" Peter growled, trying to be angry through his tears, to be frustrated instead of distraught, and muttered, "This is such _bullshit_."

"I loved her, too," Nebula said. She met his eyes then.

Peter didn't want to believe her. Didn't want to believe that anyone else could understand what he was going through, could even _pretend _they knew half of the pain that tore him up from the inside. But Nebula, who lived so much of her life burning with hatred, spoke truth. So he believed her.

"Well, I hope you told her that," Peter finally said. He sniffled loudly and mopped his nose with the sleeve of his dirty jacket. He looked off into the distance. "I hope she knew."

Nebula's body shook with emotion. She said, just to herself, "I hope she did, too."

Peter sniffed again and sighed. "I'm—I'm going to go find Mantis and Drax," he said finally, like he just needed some kind of task he could _do _so he could be doing _something_.

"Hey, I strung them up over there," Peter Parker said, pointing off into the settling dust.

"Yeah, I know; you strung me up, too," Peter Quill said loudly. He trudged off, but then stopped, sighed, and said, "Thanks, kid."

Peter Parker bobbed his head. "No problem, Star-Lord."

Peter Quill sighed again and left to inform half his crew just how they did what they set out to _not _do.

Peter Parker looked between Peter Quill's retreating figure and Tony Stark and then it just like, _dawned _on him that his mentor was suffering from a deep-set, serious wound. "Mr. Stark! Are you okay?" Peter fell by his side, worry written all over his face as he searched anxiously for an answer.

Tony stifled the painful scream building in his chest and said, "Don't worry about me, kid. Just—just let me sit for a moment."

"Sure, yeah, of course, sure," Peter backed up a little, giving the man some space. Tony timed his breaths in and out as Peter looked regretfully across the dying landscape of this forsaken planet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark."

Tony's eyes flew open. "Sorry for what?"

"For coming. I," Peter sighed, "I should've listened to you. You were right. I shouldn't have snuck aboard ship. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to, 'cause I wanted to be an Avenger; I just wanted to be like you—I should've listened to you instead—"

"Kid," Tony said, interrupting him. "I was wrong. _You _were right. You were an asset to the team. You were right there with us—with _me_. You fought against that genocidal space grape with the rest of us. Now, not to say that you should go ignoring everything I say from now on," just a little slip of humor—the world was about to see its darkest days, but at least the kid smiled—"but what I'm trying to say is, don't be sorry. You did well today."

Peter looked regretfully at Tony's ruined suit and Stephen's blood-stained face and the impending doom and said, "Just not good enough."

"Well," Tony sighed, "that can be said of all of us, then."

Peter Quill just appeared on the horizon shouldering a weakened Mantis. Drax, usually so childishly energetic with his thick-limbed gait, trudged like a wounded animal. Nebula rose with a shield over her face.

"'kay, kid, time to get up," Tony said.

Peter offered his hand and gripped Tony's fist. "Mr. Stark?" Peter said, his voice wondering and so young.

"Yeah, Peter?"

"Are we going to be okay?"

Tony knew just by looking at Peter that the kid knew everything wasn't going to be okay. That they'd lost—horribly, irrevocably. That the world would suffer, because of them.

So while Tony's face said, 'No, we won't,' his lips lied. "Don't worry, kid. We're all going to be just fine."

Tony leaned on the young strength of the kid to supplement his depleted reserve in order to stand up. He looked up to see Mantis say, eyes wide, "Something's happening," just before she disappeared from beneath Peter Quill's arm in a mist of dust.

9 minutes, 24 seconds. 9 minutes and 24 seconds since Thanos disappeared in blue smoke. 9 minutes and 24 seconds between his disappearance and the disappearance of the first Snapped of Titan.

It took less than ten minutes from the taking of the fifth Infinity Stone to the end of the world.

**I just wanted to bridge the gap between the Thanos leaving Titan to everyone but Tony and Nebula getting dusted on Titan. **

**And I timed it. 9 minutes and 24 seconds between Thanos disappearing and Bucky saying, "Steve."**

**Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy angst. Review?**


End file.
